


a dime a dozen

by kevystel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 11:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kevystel/pseuds/kevystel
Summary: Some are born Chads, some achieve Chadness, and some have Chadness thrust upon them (and they love it).





	a dime a dozen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cafecliche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafecliche/gifts), [wendy_bird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendy_bird/gifts).



> this is the second most ridiculous low-effort thing i've ever written. thanks discord server for egging me on. no frat boys were harmed in the making of this.
> 
> there's a bit of mild riffing on genesis chapter 1 right at the beginning so if that kind of stuff bothers you, please skip the first section

‘In the beginning there was Chad,’ Phichit intones. ‘And there were the heavens and the earth, and there was Yuuri. And Yuuri got with some guy at a frat party in Detroit and then that guy approached us the next day at Wendy’s and asked him out for coffee. And Yuuri said, “Oh god I don’t know his name I think it was Chad…?” And I said, “Let him be Chad,” and he was Chad. And we saw that Chad was good. Actually, he was mediocre —’

‘Phichit, please stop, you’re making Leo uncomfortable,’ Yuuri mumbles.

‘Oh, sorry,’ says Phichit. ‘Sorry, Leo! I should have been more sensitive. Anyway, we’ll call him Chad Prime.’

‘Was that supposed to be a Bible parody?’ JJ asks from somewhere just behind Yuuri’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t even notice.’

Yurio, having mellowed slightly with age and learned to mind his manners, leans around Viktor on the sofa to peer at JJ through his bangs. ‘Hi. Can you fuck off, please? Thanks.’

JJ fucks off to the other end of the hotel lobby.

Leo looks from Yuuri to Phichit and then back to Yuuri, cupping his sweating glass of orange juice between his palms. His phone’s nowhere to be seen, but Yuuri and Phichit and anyone with a functioning brain knows that Leo’s soaking up every bit of information he hears, ready to pass it on to Guang Hong at the first opportunity. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind me being here?’

‘No, honey, you can stay,’ Chris tells Leo, then flicks a sideways glance at Yuuri. ‘Yuuri? Is this okay?’

Yuuri — who has just won Worlds for the fourth time and spent the whole evening talking to sponsors and nuzzling possessively into Viktor’s shoulder at every chance he could get — lifts his head from Viktor’s lap and gives them all a slow, fawn-like blink. It is a distinctly _I-don’t-give-a-fuck_ sort of blink. He rests his cheek against Viktor’s belly again and appears to go back to sleep.

‘Carry on,’ says Viktor, chin in hands.

* * *

Phichit opens the door directly into Chad Prime’s face, sending him stumbling back. Chad doesn’t retreat for long, though; he lurches back into the doorway, six foot two of muscle, wearing a salmon-coloured polo shirt and the expression of a lost gazelle. It would be endearing if he didn’t roughly resemble a spray-tanned elephant and smell twice as strong.

‘Hi!’ Delicately, Phichit raises one hand and fans away the overpowering scent of weed that is now drifting into his and Yuuri’s shared room. ‘Chad, isn’t it?’

‘Uh, it’s Charlie, actually,’ says the elephant.

‘Mmm,’ says Phichit. ‘Interesting. Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell. Chad from…?’

Chad Prime’s eyes dart nervously around the room, or what little he can see of the room over Phichit’s shoulder. Phichit takes a casual step forward, letting the door swing half-shut behind him. ‘Uh. Charlie from Wendy’s? Yesterday, I —’

‘Oh, you’re _that_ Chad,’ Phichit breathes. ‘Well, come on in, Chadstopher. Yuuri’s in class but I could —’

‘ _Fuck_ , man.’ Chad Prime plucks at his forelock. ‘I thought we were having coffee, I waited — he’s in class? Seriously? Okay, whatever, could you just —’

Phichit tuts sympathetically.

‘— could you just tell him… oh, fuck it, I’ll tell him myself. See ya.’ And he trots away, leaving Phichit to stare after his disappearing back for a few seconds before letting out a long, low whistle and closing the door.

Yuuri pokes his head out from under Phichit’s bed. ‘Is he gone?’

‘Mm-hmm.’ Phichit flops onto his bed and reaches down to pet Yuuri’s dishevelled hair with one hand. ‘Pity. He had a nice ass, too.’

Yuuri makes a pained noise.

* * *

Chris inquires, very politely, ‘Exactly how nice was this ass?’

‘Fucking _why_ do you want to know,’ Yurio snarls. ‘ _I_ don’t want to know.’

Viktor looks up from stroking Yuuri’s hair long enough to give Phichit a half-smile. ‘I do.’

Phichit considers the question. ‘Can’t remember. I’d put him at about a 7 out of 10? For reference, Chris here would be a 10, and Viktor, you’re a 9.5 —’

‘ _What!_ ’

‘Thank you,’ Chris sing-songs, ‘thank you, thank you, Phichit.’

‘My pleasure!’

‘Can we focus?’ Yurio snaps.

* * *

Chadston Theobore Assthorp the Third, so named for the insufferable moneyed entitlement oozing from his every pore, lowers his sunglasses with one class-ring-adorned finger and gazes down his nose at Phichit. ‘Who are you again?’

‘Oh, bless your heart,’ says Phichit. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Yes! Funnily enough, you can.’ Chadworth rubs his sunburned nose. He smells faintly of shaving cream and Mountain Dew and summers by the beach. ‘I’m looking for Yuuri…’ Phichit nods encouragingly, and Chaddington mouths the syllables with care: ‘…Katsuki?’

‘Isn’t everyone,’ sighs Phichit. He continues walking down the hallway, and Chadward jogs alongside him. ‘I don’t know where he is, sorry, we’re not joined at the hip, see, and I’ve kind of got a class to get to right now —’

‘Aw, but we always see you two together!’ Chadley squints at Phichit. He’s genuinely trying. Phichit admires him a little bit for that. ‘It’s really bugging me, you know. I swear I know everyone here. Can’t quite put my finger on it. Are you… starts with a P… P-Patrick… Chan?’

‘Close enough.’

* * *

‘He went to law school after that, I’m pretty sure.’ Phichit has his fist propped against his mouth, absent-mindedly chewing on his knuckles. Chris reaches over and gently nudges his hand out of the way. ‘Maybe he’ll be a politician some day. He was the type. Yuuri. Yuuri, wake up. Yuuri, how does it feel knowing you might have fucked the future President of the United States?’

‘Who?’

* * *

‘Uh, can I ask you a question?’

Phichit takes another swig of his Diet Coke and doesn’t look away from his laptop screen. ‘Mmm-hmm.’

‘Are you guys fucking?’

Phichit taps out a few more words of his paper (due in two hours) before answering. Then, because they’re shitty words, he presses the backspace key and holds it down. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Uh, dude, don’t take this the wrong way, but, like… your hot roommate… no offense to you, man —’

‘None taken.’

‘— I’m sure you’re hot too —’

Phichit has not turned around in his swivel chair since Chadrick walked into the room, plopped down on Yuuri’s bed and proceeded to start a conversation. Phichit has not stopped writing his paper, or even taken his earbuds out. Chadrick has not seen Phichit’s face. Phichit is a patient man. ‘Mmm-hmm.’

‘Is he single?’

Phichit waits out a Spotify ad, then a second Spotify ad, then mutes his music and listens to the steady crunch of Doritos from behind him. Phichit didn’t offer Chadrick Doritos. ‘What do you think?’

Chadrick appears to ponder this deeply. He’s not the brightest of Chads. Then he looks around the room properly and says with audible dismay:

‘Wait. Is that his boyfriend?’

For the first time Phichit raises his eyes (two hours two hours _two hours_ ) and glances at the framed photograph of Viktor Nikiforov sitting on Yuuri’s bedside table.

‘Hmm.’ He chews on his bottom lip. He hits the backspace key a few more times. ‘It’s complicated.’

* * *

‘Can I just say,’ Leo begins in his unassuming way. The storytelling session has carried on into the next day — they’re now sitting in Yurio’s favourite café, FUCKOFFEE, with its tagline _Free Wi-Fi So You Don’t Have to Talk!_ ‘Can I just say, Phichit, that your California accent, it’s, uh, it’s not the best, buddy.’

‘Nah, there are worse ones out there.’ Phichit sucks foam off his curly straw. ‘Right, Viktor? I’m getting Viktor to rate the Russian accents and Russian-speaking scenes in every Hollywood movie that’s got them.’

Mila brightens. ‘Have you done the Daniel Craig one where Vitya’s a Bond boy for all of two minutes?’

Yuuri looks up from his phone long enough to correct her. ‘I think it was a little bit longer than two minutes?’

‘Oh, yeah, you’re right!’

‘Can we _not_ ,’ Yurio spits.

‘You can leave, Yurochka,’ Mila points out mildly. ‘You’re nineteen and you can do whatever you want.’

‘Fuck that. I’m staying.’

* * *

Champion Chad is Yuuri and Phichit’s favourite Chad for reasons neither of them can remember.

* * *

‘Was he the one who carried my skating gear for me?’

‘No, no, there were two! There were two Chads who did that.’

Yuuri frowns. ‘I thought they were the same person.’

‘He thought they were making fun of him for being smaller than them,’ Phichit explains. ‘Then he drank six Jägerbombs and — Yuuri, can I tell them? — picked someone up by the waist, like the show-off we all know he is, and then there was a queue of people waiting for their turn.’

* * *

Phichit hails him exultantly in the corridor: ‘Champion Chad! Hello, hello, hello! Nice seeing you again! How’s the hangover?’

‘I’m, uh, I’m not Champion Chad?’ Nebuchadnezzar-but-call-me-Chad replies uncomfortably, eyes going wide. ‘Who’s Champion Chad? Didn’t know there was a Champion Chad. What does he look like?’

* * *

Chris is off spending the day with his husband, but he stops by FUCKOFFEE long enough to put his arms around Yuuri from behind and ask, ‘Is this okay with you? We wouldn’t want you to feel embarrassed.’

Viktor rests his chin on his palm and gazes at Yuuri, who still has his gold medal hanging around his neck, courtesy of an agreement that he won’t take it off until they go home to St. Petersburg. ‘I think he might be beyond embarrassment by now.’

‘I’m looking at dogs on Instagram,’ Yuuri says.

‘Anyway,’ Phichit adds blithely, ‘the world will never know how many Chads there really were! They’re all a blur of frisbees and J. Crew.’

‘How on earth did you remember their nicknames?’

‘He didn’t,’ Yuuri mutters. ‘He gave them new ones every time he saw them.’

* * *

Back in St. Petersburg, Yuuri hangs his third gold medal of the season on a coat hook and gives Viktor a few minutes to fuss over it while he uses the bathroom. When Yuuri comes out of the bathroom, the medal’s been lovingly laid to rest beside the TV, glinting triumphant amongst all of Yuuri’s other medals (silver and bronze included) and the framed photograph of Yuuri, Viktor and Yurio on the podium at the Olympics and the flower centrepiece Viktor uses to hold these treasures in place. Yuuri goes to Viktor’s side and kisses Viktor’s cheek, lingering, before he drops to his knees to cuddle Makkachin.

Viktor hums, a warm contented sound. It’s good to be home.

As Viktor’s footsteps drift away towards the kitchen Yuuri says: ‘Vitya?’

Viktor wanders into the kitchen and Yuuri hears the noise of the coffee maker at work. ‘Hmm?’

Yuuri buries his face in Makkachin’s fur. Her familiar scent gives him courage. He raises his head, keeps his eyes fixed on the row of medals on the tabletop, and asks, ‘I’m quite a good skater, aren’t I?’

There’s a moment of silence. Then Viktor audibly takes a deep breath. Yuuri, now a little scared, cranes his neck to see into the kitchen. Viktor’s bracing himself with his hands on the counter, and then he looks up at the ceiling and lets out a long slow exhale.

‘Yes, my Yuuri. Yes, you are.’

* * *

Word gets around the St. Petersburg rink because that’s just how young skaters are. Maybe it’s Yurio who gets things started (though Yurio vehemently denies it). Maybe it’s Mila, but Mila is preoccupied with Sara Crispino and those two are a fountain of gossip all by themselves. By the time the stories circle back around to reach Viktor and Yuuri’s ears, Yuuri has acquired a veritable army of Chads, and a smaller, extremely dedicated army of Brads who have devoted their energies to becoming Chads. Yuuri is becoming a myth. He is also married to Viktor so he honestly can’t find it in himself to care.

He puts his skates away and smiles at one of the little duckling children who follows Yuuri around and babbles at him in Russian. Then, hitching his skate bag over his shoulder, Yuuri heads towards the exit and ducks his head in respect when he sees Lilia.

She nods at him. They’re going the same way, so Yuuri resigns himself to walking beside her for a while in deferential silence. After a minute or two, Lilia clears her throat authoritatively. Yuuri looks at her. Softly, in a whisper so low he knows no one’s ever going to believe him, she says: ‘Me, I used to call them all Ivan.’


End file.
